Wet Paint
by DH78
Summary: Bella Swan is surprised and excited when a famous mysterious street artist lends his talents to create a mural for her community center. Bella never imagines it will put her face-to-face with her past.


**Hi all! Long time no post! I wrote this OS a while back for the Fandom for Mental Health compilation. Special thanks to the wonderful Cejsmom Watson for her quick beta skills and Tropical Sorbet for pre-reading! A very special thanks to the ladies who put this compilation together… very proud to be a part of it!**

Wet Paint

"So, they found someone for the mural."

Bella Swan glanced from her painting at Alice, her friend, and co-organizer at the Clark City Community Arts Center.

Bella was working on a painting of her beloved Forks, Washington, the little town that represented every wonderful childhood summer spent with her father, Charlie. It's also where she attended high school when her carefree mother decided to live her own life with her new husband, Phil.

She created the Center with Alice when they—an art teacher and music teacher, respectively— realized the kids of the community would need a creative outlet after the art and music programs were cut from the local public schools. It was a very long and tedious project, but at the end, it was exactly what they wanted. Bella saw their Center grow quickly after just two years. They were even able to hire a couple of art and music students from the local community college to teach classes part time. Things were looking up, with local support coming from business and individuals alike.

One of those big donations was an anonymous one, detailing a mural that was to be done by one of the many well-known street artists from the art district nearby. That area of the city, only years before, had been nothing more than warehouses and low income housing, and not the best neighborhood. It was prime real estate for the many artists who couldn't afford large working studios, but could totally rent a large warehouse in a touch-and-go neighborhood. Street art and graffiti flooded every surface of the 10 city blocks, and suddenly it was the "it" place to be. That's what art did. It gentrified communities and breathed new life into them.

"Great," Bella replied, resting her brush on her work table. "Do we know who it is yet?"

Alice stared at her laptop screen, searching for the info. "Yes. Someone named _Culprit_. Hmm. Interesting choice."

Bella stood up and walked towards Alice's desk. "I know that name. I see it tagged in a few pieces around town. No one knows who he is. Or She. Could be a she, right? They're very _Banksy_ about what they do. Everything is done at night. Do we get to meet them?" Bella peered over Alice's shoulder to read what was presumably an email detailing the project.

"Yes ma'am. Seems they're using this project to 'out' themselves, so to speak."

Bella's eyes widened. "What? They're going to expose themselves with our little project? That's so odd. Why would they do that?"

Alice shrugged. "Who knows. Kind of cool though. It's going to give us a lot of press exposure. If this person is as notorious as you say, this could bring in a lot of donations and support to the Center. Way cool," she clapped and wiggled in her seat like a twelve-year-old.

Bella read over the email and found what she was looking for. "Ah, I see. We're meeting the artist after the work is done. They'll work at night without eyes on them. They're putting up a tarp to keep eyes and press off of them. Okay. This can work." Bella was happy that at least the walls outside would match the vibrancy and energy of its inhabitants. She'd seen a few pieces by Culprit and loved the colorful waves of patterns and symbolism. She made a mental note to look up more of the artist's work online tonight.

"Okay then. it says here they'll start as soon as we hit reply… let's do this, shall we?" Bella grinned at Alice, and she returned it with another seat wiggle. "Yes! Let's do this," she shouted to the empty room and hit REPLY.

…WP…

After a long day of classes and the busy movement of students in and out of the center, supplies were put in cabinets, the floors were swept and Bella was one tired teacher. But this is what she loved—the bright faces of kids who discovered something they didn't know they were good at.

Even exhausted Bella was looking forward to seeing the work of the newly commissioned artist.

The email had been sent through the donor's legal counsel to the entity that had set up the commission, and they'd received confirmation that the wall would be started that evening after everyone was gone. Bella's curiosity killed her. She really wanted to get a glimpse of the infamous Culprit. A white van had pulled in an hour ago, but no one had exited in the times she'd looked out the window. She figured they could've come out while she was working and putting last minute stuff away, but she'd made a point to keep an eye on the truck. She decided to head to her office on the other side of the wall, which cut off her visibility of the truck outside. She'd respect their privacy, she'd promised herself.

It didn't stop her from looking the artist up on the internet, though. That was totally fair game. Sitting with a cup of tea nearby, she hit Google.

Culprit was a street artist who became visible in the local urban art scene about three years ago. According to the Wiki entry, the artist's tag had been seen in areas in and around Paris and Madrid before that, where they created semi-large pieces of limited color palettes. They were beautiful visual poems, Bella thought, and wondered if it all worked together or stood alone as singular pieces.

The article described the art as symbols of lost love, with an inkling of hope in its imagery: Doves, anatomical hearts, and lone figures standing in shadows. Bella scrolled through the photographs of the pieces in question. Yes. They were certainly beautiful, and according to what she knew about urban art, were very in tune with the European street art scene. She was in love with the colors, the compositions, the feelings the works engraved on her soul.

The article followed Culprit to Clark City, where it stated that it was unclear why Culprit would've chosen the small urban city in the first place. It theorized that perhaps it was a personal decision to return to their hometown, although no one was sure if Clark City was their home to begin with. Bella closed her laptop with more questions than answers. Why was Culprit here? Why had they chosen her little community center as their departure from anonymity?

As she gathered her things and headed out to her car, she glanced over to the left where the white van was now partially concealed. A large blue tarp was attached to its roof and sides, connected to PVC framing against the wall that would eventually don what was sure to be an exceptional mural. Her curiosity wanted to pull her towards the tarp, but with a lot of self-control, she walked to her car and drove home.

…WP…

The next morning, Bella parked her car in her usual spot at the Center and started to walk towards the entrance when she stopped dead in her tracks.

Her eyes connected with the faint outlines on the wall where Culprit had been working the night before. It was mesmerizing. It was nothing more than an outline of what was to come, but Bella's artistic vision could see what it would become. A thrill shot through her just thinking about it.

It was an anatomical heart, very true to Culprit's usual imagery and style, with its many veins, arteries and chambers drawn so well, that one could practically hear the thrumming of its beats and the roar of its blood pumping. Bella was in a trance.

The heart was centered and almost ready for color, she supposed. There was absolutely no indication of what would be added to the left and right of it, though. And that left Bella anxious, if not excited.

Sighing deeply, she regained the use of her legs and continued on her way. When she retrieved her keys from her purse to unlock the Center doors she looked up to come face to face with a taped note scratched on a torn piece of drawing paper.

 _Will be back tonight after closing. What do you think of the work so far? -C_

For a moment, Bella stood there, once again, unable to move. The note wasn't out of the ordinary. There was no reason for her to feel completely out of sorts with regards to Culprit.

Maybe it's just a case of a little fangirling, she thought. Regardless, seeing a note written in what presumably was Culprit's fast scrawl was exciting in its mystery. Perhaps that's what they were going for. Like Banksy, their notoriety and their secrecy made them all the more irresistible to fans, and Bella realized she was no exception. With that one note, she'd fallen for the game.

She gingerly removed the note and opened the doors to the Center for the day.

…WP…

"So, are you gonna reply?" Alice eyed the note that Bella had placed in front of her. They both eyed it, as if it would magically come to life.

Bella sighed. "Should I? What should I say?"

Alice chuckled. "They asked your opinion. It's your Center They want to know what you think. You should respond."

"It's _our_ Center."

Alice waved her hand dismissively. "Yes, fine, you know what I mean. Don't change the subject."

"I'm not changing the subject. You worked just as hard at getting this off the ground as I did. What happens on that wall is as much your opinion as it is mine."

"I don't care, Bella. It's a free mural by one of the best urban artists out there, as per your comments. If you're happy with it, so am I."

Bella narrowed her eyes at Alice, but finally relented. "Okay, fine. I'll write it."

"Great," Alice said, noticing her students already gathering for class. "Gotta go. Lunch later? I want to try that middle eastern place down the street. I need me some baba ghanoush."

"Sure, sound good," Bella smiled, watching Alice meet her students through the glass wall of her office. Alice was born to teach, and a born pain in Bella's ass, if she was going to be honest. But, she loved her like a sister. They became fast friends working at the same elementary school back when they were nothing more than novice teachers. Back when the veteran teachers vowed they'd lose their optimism and become jaded like they had.

Bella was still waiting for that to happen seven years later.

Sure, teachers had to deal with office politics, just like nine-to-fivers, and often it was the adults who killed her buzz. The kids, as challenging as most of them were, were the reason she went to work every day. Unfortunately, the adults in charge believed the budget couldn't withstand arts education, but could withstand pumping more money into school sports programs. She could sit there and brood and get angry, but why? She decided to take her future into her own hands, and what started as a dismissive conversation of what-ifs with Alice, turned into the building she sat in at the moment. The Center was everything to them, and the community had finally opened its arms to it. She had wonderful parent and community volunteers who donated their time, energy, and supplies for these kids. Bella was proud. So very proud.

…WP…

At the end of the day, Bella once again lagged behind Alice, and the rest of her employees, who were leaving for the day. She used the excuse of having to go over receipts for taxes to stay as the sky darkened. Alice grinned at her friend, knowing better than to believe that. Bella knew she couldn't fool her either, but decided it wasn't worth fighting it.

"Say _hi_ to Culprit for me," Alice teased, popping her head into Bella's office. "See you tomorrow. Write that note, young lady."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. I'll see you tomorrow, crazy person."

Bella heard Alice giggle into the empty Center and finally closed the door, leaving Bella alone. Finally. She took a deep breath, and walked over to the mural side of the building, and peeked out the window. The van wasn't there yet. With a little pang of disappointment, she sat back down at her desk and finally wrote her note. It took her a few tries, but she finally had something.

 _Thank you, so much. It's looking great so far. Am a fan of your work. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you. -Bella_

There. Perfect. Completely sane and casual. She collected her things, not in hand, and headed once more for the window, where the white van was now parked and already covered. Damn, they were fast. Bella sighed and headed out, turning out the light and taping the note to the door. Glancing over one last time, she heard the hissing sound of a spray can and the intermittent shaking of cans. She knew Culprit was in there. She could see shadow and light playing through the tarp; a tall form that she could barely make out as broad and male. Wow. Maybe it was a _he._ Though it could be an assistant of some kind so she couldn't have a definite answer. _Ugh_. There was that pull again. That need to go there and see for herself. Like a carbon copy of the night before, she pulled away and drove home, telling herself to be patient. She'd get to meet the artist behind the tarp soon enough.

…WP…

The next morning, Bella headed first to the local cafe to get some much needed coffee. It was the typical hipster, artsy little coffee shop that sold the trendy local roast that people who didn't want to be like everyone else bought into. She normally would've just made some at the Center, but noticed they were out and she hadn't had time to buy any. The grocery store was a little out of her way, and this place was, so trendy overpriced coffee would have to do.

As she entered, the scent of happy mornings made her take a very deep breath, her mouth forming an involuntary smile at the prospect of coffee—and maybe a sticky bun. She moved up in the line to order, and as her eyes scanned the cafe, she noticed someone—a guy— sitting in one of the corner tables next to the window. There was something so familiar about him, she wanted to take a closer look. Before she could, however, she was up at the counter and was forced to look away and place her order. Something in the back of her mind nagged at her, and the back of her neck tingled with anxiousness. Why? It was unsettling, to say the least.

When she took her coffee from the barista, she turned around and looked again. Yes. _I know this person,_ she thought. Her legs carried her closer to him where she made out his long legs clad in ripped jeans, a dark gray hoodie covering most of his face, and a trimmed darkish beard. He was jotting something down in a small notebook. No, not writing… drawing.

Her breath hitched. She was only a couple feet away from him when he lifted his face—his utterly beautiful face—and looked out the window, only turning slowly—apprehensively—when he saw her ghostly reflection.

It was him. Edward Cullen.

 _My Edward Cullen,_ her thoughts claimed.

Only he wasn't. Because he hadn't been hers for nine years.

His deep evergreen eyes met Bella's and she saw a thousand words through that gaze. A thousand things to say. In that split second that felt like minutes, they stood there—the only two people in the room.

And she breathed, "Edward." Like a prayer.

His eyes implored. He looked sad, but hopeful, all at once. Like he'd been lost and now saw a light far away.

Edward stood up slowly, his hand gesturing for her to take the seat across from him. When she did, he sat down slowly with her, swallowing thickly.

Bella wasn't sure what to do. There were so many questions, so many words to say, so many emotions warring to come out. In the end, however, she sat there staring, her eyes roaming every detail of his face. She was captivated—the same feeling she'd always felt whenever they were together. His energy filled her senses.

"Wh— what are you doing here?" She asked quietly when she could speak. His green eyes pleaded with her for… something. She couldn't tell.

Edward took a sip from his mug, taking a deep breath, after setting the mug down.

"I'm… home."

"Home?" She wasn't quite sure what that word meant to him anymore.

"Yeah. I'm home. Temporarily. For now."

"Why?"

"Why?" He asked, once again silently pleading with his eyes. For mercy? For forgiveness? Bella couldn't say. She raised her brows in question.

Edward cleared his throat. "I'm working… on a special project. Something I've been planning for a long time."

He was being vague, Bella thought. There was something he wasn't telling her.

"What kind of project? And why here? What happened to Europe?"

"That's a lot of questions," he said, chuckling sadly. Bella sat in silence, still processing that Edward was here at all.

"Okay. I can't give details on the project, I'm kind of bound to secrecy until it's done. It's kind of something I've been working towards since Paris, and now it will all come together once it's complete. As to why…" he glanced up at Bella, seemingly gauging her reactions. Bella tried to remain impassive. She hoped it was working.

"I wanted to come home. This is home, it always has been."

"So why'd you leave then?" She blurted it out and there it was. She couldn't hold it in. Her pain came out without permission. She'd done so well for so long. All she had to do was see him again, and all that hard work had gone to shit.

Edward closed his eyes briefly, knowing and accepting.

"You know why."

"Because of your sister. Yeah, I know."

"I… I couldn't handle being here after—"

"People die, Edward," Bella exclaimed calmly, but still powerfully. "People die every day. We deal with it. We comfort each other. I could've been there for you…"

"Rosie made me promise—"

"Edward—"

"She made me promise to go see places she would never see. To live the life she would never live. I couldn't look at the house, her room, her things, our street, our hangouts, without my heart wilting. I had to get out."

"And you left me." I added.

"I begged… _begged_ for you to come with me."

"I was finishing school, Edward. My life mattered too."

"Bella—" He pleaded, but she was already rising from her seat, collecting her things.

"You deal in absolutes, Edward. You always have. There was never any in-between. There was no compromise. I get it. You had to do what you had to do, and I… I did, too." Bella checked her phone's clock and saw she was already late. She took a deep breath and looked at him.

He was beautiful. But now, there was more grit to the beauty. More experiences in those eyes and the lines of his face—experience, that she sadly realized, she hadn't been a part of. They had more memories without each other than with. It was ridiculous to keep reliving those sad moments from years ago. They were practically kids back then. They were both established adults now, with independent lives and memories. So why did this hurt so much? It's a question that would have to be shelved for another day—alone and in the silence of her heart. Today— _today_ , she had to walk away.

"Edward, I have to go. But I want you to know. No matter what happened back then, I'm still happy you're home, that you've come home. Truly. Not for me or anything, but just that you've found peace… I hope."

Edward sat still, looking at her, seemingly searching her face for the hidden meaning.

"I'd like to see you again. Talk, when we're not in a rush. There's so much I want to say. Please."

Bella nodded slowly. It was involuntary and totally her heart's doing. As much as she wanted to be angry or indifferent, she couldn't find those feelings inside. Instead, she found a need to reconnect, to hear him out, to come to a peaceful place with him, even if they would never be together again.

 _That_ thought saddened her more than any other.

"Okay," he replied, relief on his features. "When? How about tomorrow? Lunch? My treat."

"I work at the Center all week."

"The Center?"

"Oh, yeah…" Bella shook her head, realizing he had no idea what she'd been up to.

"I run an art and music community center with Alice."

"Alice? From college?"

"Yeah. She's Alice Whitlock now. Married a couple years ago. Good guy."

"That's great. Bella, that's really great." His smile was open and genuine. He was so ruggedly handsome with the beard, she nearly forgot what they were talking about.

"That Alice got married?" She asked, confused.

"That you opened up a place like that. It's special. I'm sure the kids love you."

"Well, I don't know about that. I worked… _we_ worked very hard to get where we are."

He nodded in understanding, then said slowly, "Are you happy?"

"Yeah. Yeah I am."

Edward smiled and nodded. "I'll come and find you at the Center then."

"Um, okay. I guess that's fine. There's a break around twelve-thirty for about an hour and a half." She agreed, quickly giving him the address.

"Perfect. I'll be there."

"Okay. Well, I've gotta go, so…" Bella gestured with her thumb over her shoulder.

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow, Bella."

"Yeah. See you tomorrow."

…WP…

The rest of Bella's day went by in a haze of students, painting, Alice's violin students practicing a very screechy version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and staring out the window where—once closed for the evening—that white van would be unloading creativity personified. She couldn't quite concentrate on any one task, but rather operated on autopilot, her thoughts pointing to Edward and their impromptu meeting that morning.

She still felt… everything, for him. The butterflies, the accelerated heart rate, and the warmth in her chest whenever he looked at her with those soulful eyes.

Not to say she didn't force herself to move on, because she absolutely did. It took about two years for her to feel over the fact that he'd left—at least, over it enough to date—and she even managed a few relationships that were significant in her becoming who she was now. But seeing Edward again; it was like those years hadn't passed and _did_ all at once. She had no idea what she was thinking but she knew she was _feeling_ things, things she wasn't ready to accept.

When Alice approached her later in the day about her strange behavior, she knew she hadn't done a good job of pretending things was fine. So she told her.

"I saw Edward Cullen this morning. At the café."

"What? _Edward_ Edward? Mr. I-Can't-Handle-Life-Here-So-I'll-Run-Away-Without-You-Cullen? He's back? Did you talk to him?"

"Yes, that Edward. Yes, he's back, temporarily-maybe-permanent, according to him. And yes, I talked to him."

"And? What did he have to say for himself?" Alice didn't look too thrilled.

"We talked for a bit. Said some things. Honestly, Alice. It was nine years ago. I'm totally okay." She wasn't, but she wouldn't tell her friend that.

"You forget I watched you turn into a zombie for about a year after he left? Because I definitely haven't forgotten."

"We were also twenty. We had no idea what we were doing—"

"You were in love with him, Bella. And you honestly believed he was, too."

"He did love me. I know he did. Things… they were just… different with us. Alice, he's an artist, you know how we can be."

"You're seriously going to use the 'he's an artist with a sensitive soul' excuse?"

"It's not an excuse." She sighed. "Look. It's in the past. He's here now. I'm here now. And…"

"And?"

"I agreed to lunch tomorrow."

Alice looked a little worried. Frankly, Bella was a little worried too.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Bella?" She asked, sitting down beside her.

"I told you, I'm fine. It's better to just do this and get it out of the way. Especially if he's going to be around. This is a small town. We're bound to bump into each other at some point. I'd rather have it not be awkward."

"Fair enough. I really hope you know what you're doing."

She hoped so too.

That night, she spotted the white van, already covered and heard the unmistakable sound of the shaking and hissing of spray cans as she walked to her car. That pull was there again, and this time, she indulged her curiosity.

"Just a little closer won't kill anyone." She mumbled to herself.

She inched quietly, thankful her steps were silent on the pavement. As she neared, she almost gasped in surprise when she spotted a shadow close to the tarp. She could make out a form that looked masculine; tall and broad shouldered. She looked down when movement caught her attention.

There was a tiny flap of the tarp that was ripped, allowing just a sliver of light to shine through. It also meant that she could see… _holy crap, she could see._ She caught sight of large classic Chucks; worn and splattered with paint. He was crouched down and painting the lower quadrant of whatever he was painting. A thrill shot through her. _Oh, my God_ , she freaked out inwardly. _I'm watching Culprit paint._

Suddenly, the form stilled. Bella's heart stopped. She wondered if he felt her there. He slowly straightened and his head turned slightly in her direction. _Shit. He did feel her there._ She immediately felt guilty and stepped back, then took another step, until she finally turned and walked to her car, her heart racing.

…WP…

The next morning, Bella walked up to the Center doors to open for the day and caught sight of a note taped to the door. She'd nearly missed that Culprit had left no note the morning before but was inexplicably anxious to see one today. She smiled and gently detached the note from the door.

 _Glad you trust me and have seen my past work. There is something you can do for me, since you asked. Don't be scared and run away next time. You may not be able to see me yet, but you can keep me company… if you want. -C_

 _Oh, my God_ , Bella thought, as her embarrassment heated its way up her neck and face. He had in fact felt her there last night. She wanted to bury herself under a rock. How could she be so disrespectful to his artistic process. Even more, how could he be so forgiving and open to her?

As much as she chastised herself over the incident, she couldn't help the secret thrill at being allowed to be there as Culprit worked—even if it meant sitting on the other side of that tarp. Could she take him up on the invitation? She smiled.

 _Hell yeah, she could._

Again, the morning went like any other; adult painting classes in one room, a lone guitar strumming in another room. There was a small group of senior citizens that had arrived a little while ago from the assisted living community in town, and they were in the middle of an arts and crafts class when he walked in.

Edward. Looking incredibly sexy in well-worn jeans, gray hoodie with a white tee underneath, and of course that skull cap—copper hair curling out of it. His eyes shown bright green and his beard only managed to accentuate his eyes even more. She couldn't look away.

He smiled tentatively, and only when he stepped farther inside and towards he did she notice the two white bags in either hand. _Oh, right._ Lunch. She'd totally forgotten.

"Hey. Is this okay? Are you sure it's okay to eat here?" He asked, placing the bags on the long table where she was seated.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Totally okay. Let me just—" Bella quickly cleared the space of the minor clutter of paper and art supplies, wiped it down, before smiling up at Edward in invitation.

"See? Completely okay. Please, sit."

Luckily, the senior group was packing up and heading to their little shuttle bus, but not before one of the ladies in the group winked at Bella, giving her the thumbs up as she took in Edward's form. Bella smiled behind her fingers—Edward too busy taking out the sandwiches and bottled water to notice.

"I didn't know what you'd want, but I remembered you had a thing for Nico's pastrami, so I got you that. Is that okay?" He said, handing over the wrapped sandwich.

"Yeah, yes of course. I still love it, actually. Haven't had one in a while since I've put on a few."

"You still look beautiful." It was a simple statement. And it left his lips so easily, her heart galloped in her chest. She sighed and tried ignoring it.

She watched him open a turkey on wheat and take a swing of his water. "Having a good day so far?" She asked, trying to be normal. She watched his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed and wanted to lick it. _What the hell is wrong with me_ , she thought.

"I'm great actually. A little tired, though."

"Oh? Didn't sleep?"

"I don't really sleep much. But last night, I slept even less. A lot on my mind."

"Like what?" Why did she ask him that?

"You. I was thinking about you, Bella. About what you said—what we talked about yesterday."

"Oh?"

He glanced at her through his lashes and smiled. "Yeah. And I came to the conclusion that things happened the way they were supposed to. Not to say that I think what I did was right, because honestly, looking back, I was an asshole and shouldn't have left you at all."

Was it hot in here? Bella felt warm all over. She could just watch Edward—completely spellbound by the way he moved, spoke, chewed his food. Everything was a revelation.

"But, as shitty as it was, we wouldn't be who we are now without those shitty choices. And I've decided— I'm gonna wait."

"Wait. What for?"

"I'm going to wait for you, Bella. I still love you. With every fiber of my being. So tell me about that tarp covering the wall outside? What's that about?"

"Oh, um… We had an anonymous donor offer a mural from Culprit, a local street artist."

"Oh yeah? That's pretty cool. What do you know about him?"

"Not much. I did a little digging and he was doing stuff in Paris and England for a bit. I'm surprised you haven't seen his stuff. It's all over the place."

"Hmm. Culprit. Maybe. Wait— yeah. I think I have seen their stuff. Hearts, arteries, mysterious figures? Lots of color?"

"Yeah, that's him!"

"Him? You know it's a guy?"

"Um. Yeah. I think he is. I accidentally, kind of on purpose, stuck around last night and saw his shadow through the tarp. Problem is, I think he noticed and I totally freaked out and ran."

"He's just a guy, Bella. Not an alien."

"I know that," she glared at him, half serious. "I felt like I was intruding. There's a reason he operates in anonymity, and there I was violating that, while he's doing something for the Center for free…"

"For you."

"What?"

"He's doing it for you."

That answer struck her as odd.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he's doing it because he believes in your vision. He believes in what you're doing for these kids."

"And Alice."

He stills, thinks about it then nods in agreement. "You and Alice. Yes."

This whole exchange was a little weird—he was very intense about this whole mural thing—so she changed gears.

"So, what did you do out there in Europe? You said you were in Paris?"

He chewed, nodding before swallowing a bite of his sandwich. "Paris, England, Spain a little bit."

"Wow."

"Yeah. I stayed with my aunt for about a month in Paris. She set me up with a few artist groups, but I really wasn't feeling the whole stuffy art scene. So I left."

"So, what, you just backpacked it?"

"Pretty much. Collaborated with other artists along the way, stayed in their studios in exchange for my help painting and stuff. By the time I got to England, I was tired, hungry, and I missed… home."

The way he said 'home' gave Bella butterflies. A fluttery sensation in her chest at the inflection in his voice.

"And anyway," he continued, unaware of the havoc he was reeking in her. "I accomplished what I wanted to do there."

"Does what you accomplished have anything to do with this secret project you can't talk about?"

"It has everything to do with that secret project I can't talk about."

They both smiled, saying things with their eyes they couldn't say with words. He was being so charming in that moment—so utterly real and humble—that she didn't even know how to feel anymore.

Bella realized, watching him eat and talk with her—just like they used to—that she missed him terribly. Not just his love, but his companionship. She missed this—being together and just spending time with one another.

"So what happens when he's done with this mural?"

"He's announcing his identity, according to the emails we've gotten from his legal counsel."

"Just like that? He's outing himself with this project?"

She nodded.

"And how do you feel about it? You're obviously dying to know who he is…"

"Duh," she joked. He smiled. "He's actually invited me to sit with him at night and watch him—well his shadow. I assume I can't ever enter the forbidden tent—but he kinda wants me there. It's weird, but I think it's kinda cool."

"Are you going to do it?"

She pondered that question. Should she? She wouldn't be violating his privacy if he asked her to be there.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I will."

Edward nodded, pondering something himself, it seemed, before wiping his mouth with a napkin and staring at her. He used to do this all the time. Just stare at her, like she was some figure drawing model—eyes tracing every light and shadow on her face. She found it oddly comforting… and kind of hot, to be honest.

"Bella, I want you to know—for what it's worth—You were on my mind every day… every fucking day. From the moment I left to this one right here. I fucked up—I know that. I guess what I'm trying to say is… I'm sorry. And I know those words don't mean shit for you… Jesus, it's been what, nine years? Yeah. Total crock of shit, those words. I'll understand if you don't want to talk to me anymore, or if you've completely cut me from your heart. Just know… I will never… ever, cut you out of mine."

The silence stretched between them—so much to say but the words wouldn't come. They floated soundlessly in the air around them—her heart did somersaults and her soul burned warmly through her skin.

Edward said nothing else, tidying up their mess, and gathering crumbs from the table with a napkin and into the trash. A lot like what his words had just done. A whole mess of feelings, of insecurities, of immature words spoken without thought. A mess of sadness and resentment… just… wiped away. Clean slate.

That's what his words did to her.

"I guess I better be going. I don't want to keep you. I just… wanted to spend time with you." He rose from his seat, hands in pockets and the shyness of a boy she one loved. A boy, now a man.

A man she might still love.

She stood, silently walking with him to the door.

"I guess Alice didn't want to talk to me, right?" Her brow scrunched up in confusion and he gestured to the area behind her with his chin. Bella turned to see Alice quickly duck away from the little vertical rectangle window of her practice room. Bella smiled.

"Well, you know. She was there when the shit hit the fan. She'll come around. It was a long time ago."

Edward nodded thoughtfully and suddenly his lips were gentle on her cheek, and she was engulfed in his scent—familiar and foreign all at once. She closed her eyes, the skin where his lips had been begging for more.

"Bye, Bella. Give me a call if you ever want to talk." He hands over a small square card with simply his name and number on it. It was all in her hands now—in more ways than one.

"Okay. See you around, Edward. And… thank you. For what you said. It's something I really needed to hear, and I didn't even know it."

Edward smiled shyly, before ducking out and walking into the afternoon sun, his Chucks worn and splattered.

Wait! Wait… Those shoes…

Before Bella can really delve into the possibilities swirling in her mind, her name is called—her afternoon students ready to get started were beckoning her back into the center, and she turned, smiling at them indulgently. When she got to the door she looked back to see him turn the corner… No. It couldn't be, could it?

She snorted. No way. She shook her head at her silly thoughts and headed in to take on the rest of the day.

…WP…

That night, she was buzzing.

It was the feeling of anticipation, like Christmas Eve. You knew it was coming. You knew it was not much longer before all the secrets were revealed.

Alice and Bella, had gotten an email through Culprit's representation that afternoon, that he would be done that evening and the necessary media and community outlets had already been alerted and would be there tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

All this… mystery. Gone, tomorrow. She would know… they would _all_ know who Culprit was.

And tonight. She'd be next to him.

So without further ado, after closing up the Center and dropping off her stuff in the trunk of her car, she peaked over, seeing the van and tarp already up and the shadow of him—who she'd meet tomorrow—already working. As she walked towards the work area, her heart beat in her ears; a sudden rush of adrenaline that erased all her tiredness and fatigue from the day.

As she neared, Culprit stilled, like the night before—the spray can's hiss silent in his hand. He'd already placed a folding chair out for her… right next to him—the blue tarp their only barrier.

"Hi," She whispered. Why, she didn't know. She felt kind of silly speaking to him, knowing he wouldn't. What the hell was she doing there? She suddenly felt inadequate and ridiculous.

He, of course, said nothing. She sat, the chair creaking—louder than anything in that night time stillness.

He still stood there, can in hand. What was she supposed to do now? Should she make conversation? Would that distract him? Would he be annoyed? _Shit. What do I do?_ She worried.

Then, as if he'd sensed her apprehension, he moved to something on some kind of table. He walked two strides towards her before pushing a small paper tray with a Starbucks cup and a paper bag. An offering.

Her heart burst. So wishy-washy of her, and she wished he could see her smile, but words would have to do.

"Thank you," words still whispered. "This is very nice of you—the chair, and…" she retrieved the bag and opened it to find a warm croissant. "…the treat." She picked up the cup, and sniffed the contents. Mocha. He certainly knew how to win her over.

As he bowed his head, he returned to his painting, and she talked.

"So, I heard through the grapevine that you'll be done tonight. We get to see you, to meet you. Are you sure that's what you want? Because honestly, I don't see why you'd choose our little Center to expose your identity. Seems like such an insignificant place to do it."

Culprit stopped spraying again. Bella saw him take something and write—or draw—something and pass it under the tarp. He kept painting.

She picked up the note in the now familiar scrawl of his handwriting.

 _There is not one thing insignificant about what I'm doing here. This is where I want you to see me._

Bella pondered the meaning of it all. He wanted _her_ to see him? Or did he mean everyone? Alice? The community…

"Okay. Fair enough. Here's a question for you then. This piece you're doing? Is this site-specific? Or is it more connected to your overall themes I've seen online?"

Culprit stopped again, scratched another note out, and slid it towards her.

 _Everything I ever do is connected. Even what I do here. It's about the Center… but it's about more, too._

Interesting. This guy was an enigma. She wasn't sure if it was his nature or something he's concocted over the years of anonymity and stealth.

The evening fell and their unconventional conversation ceased. Bella munched on her croissant, and wrapped her hands around the warm cup of coffee, as she listened to the rhythm of his spray can. They existed in this bubble of companionable silence where they were just content to be in each other's company.

She dozed off sometime into her third hour there, her eyes snapping open at the sound of the van door sliding shut. She shook her head, clearing the mental cobwebs of exhaustion. She looked around, and noticed Culprit was moving around, and packing up the remainder of his cans into boxes. As the light breeze picked up and the corner flaps of the tarp waved back and forth, Bella caught glimpses of his hands— finger tips tinged in colors, and as he squatted down to pick up the box, she noticed his shoes.

Chucks. the same ones from the other night.

The same ones Edward wore.

Bella gasped. No. It couldn't be. Could it?

No. No, no. She chided herself. You're so tired, Bella, you're hallucinating.

But then she looked at his silhouette… the shadow of his form as he moved around. Something so familiar about it. This grace of movement—efficient and purposeful. Like watching Edward back in college— moving paint cans and tables and easels.

 _Oh, my God._

Bella was going insane.

Her heart nearly beat out of her chest, and she was up out of her seat in a flash.

Culprit must've heard it, or felt the energy change, because he stopped everything and moved quickly, with purpose, towards her. He stopped right on the other side of the barrier, his form outlined in perfect detail. Slowly, he brought his hand up, palm connecting with the tarp.

He was inviting her to come to him.

Bella couldn't move. She just stared. Incredulous. Hopeful. Confused. Sad. Anxious.

No. It couldn't be. Her mind told her it was totally possible. She knew.

She needed to clear her head. She needed to get away from here. From him.

So she did. And as she turned and ran towards the safety of her car, she looked over her shoulder.

He was still there. His palm up in waiting.

…WP…

Bella dropped her bag and keys onto the entry way table once she got home and plunked onto the sofa— shoes off and discarded somewhere. Her mind was all over the place.

What the hell had just happened back there? Bella's thoughts were a mile a minute as she retraced every step, every word, every action between Culprit and her.

 _There is not one thing insignificant about what I'm doing here. This is where I want you to see me._

 _Everything I ever do is connected._

His words in black and white on ripped pieces of paper with smudged red and gold fingerprints.

 _His_ fingerprints.

She couldn't wait a minute more, and yet she was petrified of the outcome. She eyed the laptop sitting silently on her coffee table. Amazing how one flat, folded machine could hold so much information. Information that could hurt someone. Find someone. Lose someone. Steal someone. All in a click or a pressed key.

Bella took a very deep breath, centering herself for what she was about to do. She knew if she didn't, there was no way she'd sleep. Who was she kidding, though? She wasn't going to sleep anyway.

She picked up her laptop and opened it, getting comfortable on the couch. She clicked on her bookmarks and revisited some of the street art blogs and Tumblr accounts with Culprit's works.

There they were, in chronological order. They were the same images she's already seen. Anatomical hearts full of color and energy, virtually pumping its lifeblood into different sections of the piece. They all had the same theme—love lost, lonely shadowed figures in the background, sometimes sitting huddled in a corner. Other times, the figures were looking out a window. On their other side, there was always a female portrait, face mostly obscured by outrageous strands of multicolored hair—vibrant against the mostly dark colored backgrounds. Sometimes she was sleeping, face on a pillow or simply a glimpse of eyes closed in meditation.

Bella scrolled through what had to be at least a hundred pieces—some huge, some smaller, almost insignificant if not for its symbolism. Her heart lurched, wondering who he had lost so long ago, and why he was stuck on her memory. Then there was one piece that stopped her in her tracks.

She'd seen this one before. A giant piece he'd done in Sevilla, Spain, three years ago. She was now seeing it with brand new… knowing eyes.

A bird… not just any bird—but a swan, emerging from the darkness and the dark silhouette figure, reaching for it, limbs taught and outstretched as if he were so close yet so far away.

Edward's words came back to her in an instant.

 _"So what did you do out there in Europe? You said you were in Paris?"_

 _He chewed, nodding before swallowing a bite of his sandwich. "Paris, England, Spain a little bit."_

 _"And anyway," he continued, unaware of the havoc he was reeking in her. "I accomplished what I wanted to do there."_

 _"Does what you accomplished have anything to do with this secret project you can't talk about?"_

 _"It has everything to do with that secret project I can't talk about."_

"Holy shit," Bella said alone in her living room. Everything connected.

"Am I losing my mind here? Am I seeing too much into this?" Of course, no one answered. She was alone—In more ways than one—for years.

She decided in that moment that while she couldn't sleep, she'd take a hot bath, and contemplate what she'd find tomorrow.

…WP…

With little sleep, Bella was up and freaking the hell out, as she dressed and prepped for the media event that would already be camped out when she arrived at the Center. She checked her phone and saw a text message from Alice.

 _Hey, I'm already here. Wall is covered and a bunch of local news trucks are setting up. Get here like now._

Bella typed out a quick response.

 _Any sign of Culprit?_

Alice's reply came just as quick.

 _No. Not that I can tell. It's freaking me out that he could just be standing around here. Kinda creepy._

 _Ok. I'll be there in a bit._

So, with butterflies in her stomach, she gave herself a final once-over in the mirror.

 _Whatever happens, Swan, will happen_. She spoke the mantra knowing full well whatever happened would alter everything in her world. "Okay. Let's go meet Culprit."

…WP…

A "little" media event it was not.

Bella pulled up to the parking lot at the Center and actually had to park two lanes farther away than normal. News trucks and civilians with their phones out, snapping photos and probably posting it all on social media.

 _Oh, God._ There was no white van. Would he bring that here, or show up in a limo or something? She had no freaking clue how any of this worked. Her stomach was in knots and she couldn't seem to take a breath that wasn't shaky.

"There you are, girly. Jesus, can you believe this circus? Who the hell is this guy anyway? You'd think the POTUS was coming," Alice observed, wide-eyed as Bella looked at the well-described circus before them.

Some of the locals from the community pounced on Bella as soon as they saw her, waxing poetic on everything she and Alice had done for the town. This. _This_ is what really mattered at the end of the day. Mothers and fathers and grandparents and their children—all ecstatic to have this place of solace for their creative outlet. Beyond whatever turmoil Bella's mind had dragged her through all night and this morning, right now, the joy in the kids' faces at the whole spectacle of it all, helped quell the uneasiness Bella felt.

That is, until she saw some guy in a suit walk towards her.

"Miss Swan? Mrs. Whitlock?"

"Yes. I'm Ms. Swan. You are?"

"My name is Michael Davis. I represent my client, Culprit. I just wanted to relay the message that he is ready when you are. I'll speak for a few minutes and so will Mayor Alvarez, then we'll introduce you to say a few words, before we unveil the final piece. Is that satisfactory?"

"Yes, that's perfect." Alice responded. Mr. Davis nodded silently and made his way to the podium, asking everyone to gather around and come to attention."

After polite remarks and a very excited Mayor speaking of what this Center represented for the community, I was summoned to speak.

I walked to the podium, heart in my throat, looking at all the expectant faces. And I went for it.

"Thank you Mayor Alvarez. And thank you Mr. Davis, and most of all, thank you all of you for your continued support and excitement about what we do here. When I was contacted by Mr. Davis, I had no idea the impact something like this would have on me, much less the entire city. Having Culprit lend his artistic vision to our little haven has been such an adventure, and we're about to unwrap this piece of artistic expression like a gift. Because that's what it is. A gift to all of you, and according to Culprit himself, a gift to me—thought I have no idea what I've done to deserve his attention." Bella chuckled nervously as the crowd murmured and chuckled along with her.

"Well, without further ado, let's unveil this thing, shall we?" Bella raised her voice, asking people to count down with her. She turned around to face the wall and things happened in slow motion from there.

"Three!"

Alice squeezed Bella's shoulders and hopped in place.

"Two!"

Two people placed themselves on either side of wall, holding on their respective corners of the curtain.

"One!"

The curtain fell and Bella heard the collective gasps as the world fell away and her eyes feasted on the images before her.

Her face. Her face in full, profiled view—lying down on the concrete bed of the sidewalk—with eyes closed and colorful hair whipping around. Above the face—as if images of her dream—scenes of children walking hand-in-hand with the taller, more adult leaders.

To the side, the same lone figure that graces every other piece. This time, he's standing at an easel painting. The anatomical heart is also there, pumping colorful paint into the surrounding areas. But it's the line of words that contours her profile from the neck down that brought tears to her eyes.

 _vous êtes mon cœur et l'âme_

You are my heart and soul.

To the outside world, it was a declaration and promise to her community. But Bella knew better.

Edward had once spoken this to her in college, when he swore one day they'd live as real artists in Paris. That was also the day he first said he loved her.

There was a hushed silence among the crowd and Bella could feel his heat behind her. She closed her eyes and smiled in relief, just knowing who she would find.

"Bella."

She absorbed his voice like air.

"Bella. Please. Turn around." His voice was tentative and pained.

She breathed, and turned, still with eyes closed. This was a moment she would never forget.

"Look at me."

Bella slowly opened her eyes and took a glimpse of the beautiful boy she loved. The gorgeous man he'd become. And the artist the world knew as Culprit.

"Edward." A statement. Not a question.

"You knew last night, didn't you? When you ran away from me."

"I wasn't sure. I didn't know what to believe."

"But then?"

"I saw your work. I saw it a second time with new eyes. My heart knew, even though my mind refused to accept it."

Edward's face was a ballad of concern, sadness, hopefulness, and searching. Of pleading.

"I won't force you. If you send me away, I'll go. I just wanted to give you something… something of myself to you—the way you gave of yourself to me so many times. How you loved me, Bella. You loved with your whole heart. You are… still… my heart and soul. My muse. My existence. My—"

"Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

Edward's face broke out in a smile so bright it could illuminate the darkness. He stepped closer, pulling Bella by the waist to him, and kissed her.

It was the kiss to end every other kiss. His warm scent of clean and cinnamon, his soft lips pliant and purposeful at once, and his tongue, caressing hers with equal parts love and hunger—it all served to awaken the need she had of him. Her hands reached to frame his cheeks, pulling him forward, more deeply into her.

She was possessed. They were aflame.

They could've been there for seconds or for minutes, or hours. She didn't know or care. She was aware they were in front of an audience, but she was so engulfed in Edward, she really couldn't give a shit.

She loved him. Fully. It had never stopped. She knew that now.

As the kiss slowed, Edward pulled away an inch, just to see her, to take stock of her emotions. Mr. Davis used the chance to tap his client on the shoulder, clearing his throat apologetically.

"Sir. I'm sorry, but they're asking you questions. Maybe you should answer a few?" Edward turned his head towards Mr. Davis and smiled.

"Sure. What's the question?" He said louder, towards the rushing journalists.

"Sir. Who are you?" It's the question that rang above all others.

Edward took a moment to look at the crowd, then at Bella—his hand reaching to trace the lines of Bella's cheek and temple—before turning back to the crowd.

"My name is Edward Cullen. I'm Culprit. And I'm in love with Bella Swan."

—The End—

A/N: This was so much fun to write! Thank you to all who donated to this very important cause.


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